


EXPERIENCE

by Thedracoacademy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, DNF, DreamSMP - Freeform, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, George’s POV, Internal Conflict, Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Platonic Cuddling, Real Life, Realization, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Twitchcon, dream team, fluff and smut and angst, i just love fluff and cuddling sm man i am touch starved, idk how to tag this is my first ao3 work help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28759797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thedracoacademy/pseuds/Thedracoacademy
Summary: “So why is this your first time experiencing the world this through the glasses? You’ve had them for months, George.”“I wanted to wait for you.” George doesnt even attempt to make it sound less meaningful than it appears. So unlike his usual self. What is happening?An expression hes never seen clay make before appears on his face.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 232





	1. Water

**Author's Note:**

> The popular dnf fics’ endings have left a gaping hole in my heart so now ive written this.
> 
> This is about the bond forming between them, George figuring it out (written in george's pov from 3rd person), conflicting emotions, the developing feelings and progression of what was originally just a friendship.
> 
> I have been really interested in incorporating songs into writing so ive done that at a select few parts. Ive used songs that people in this fandom are likely to know.

"OH GEORGE"  
Dream is attacking him. Or pretending to attack him rather. It consists of throwing hits and running away, because he knows if George dies now he will probably end stream and go to sleep. 

George has been streaming for about 5hours, so naturally a feeling of drowsiness is creeping in.

The distinctive blue light coming out of the screen was starting to make him feel derealised. Its a cold night in London, but the combination of sitting in the same spot all day and his fairly powerful radiator, meant the cold bed behind him was looking very inviting.

George turns his character around and starts sprinting after Dream to get this over with, once and for-all. All he wanted to do this stream was build a new house on the SMP, away from civilisation, where nobody knew, so that it wouldn't get terrorised again. Of course Dream knows where it is though, and George trusts him with the location anyway.

But Dream still seems to prioritise "trolling him for the stream" over the house. George doesn't mind that much, time is his oyster.

"UGH DREAM I need to end stream now I'm gonna sleep," he says, forcing a purposefully annoyed tone into his voice.

"Fine, fine, fine," replies Dream while laughing, "Come back after though, I wanna talk to you."

George snickers. "okay."

He and deafens and mutes, looking forward to off-stream conversation with Clay. His stomach warms.

George thanks the viewers and then hits 'end stream'.

Clicking back onto minecraft, he is immediately greeted by the soft blue light turning to harsh red, with the text 'You Died!'

"CLAY!" George snaps at him.

"Oooooohhhhh you're mad George, you only say my real name when youre mad."

This is true. George purposefully saves it for special occasions when he needs to specifically get Clay's attention.

"Of course I'm mad, you killed me while i was ending stream, its an unspoken rule to not do that!" 

"Okay, but its funny," Dream replies chuckling.

George lets out an exaggerated groan. "Funny for you."

"Im sure your viewers loved it too, they love it when you scream."

"Oh really, well i know that they don't like it quite as much as you do." George hits back instinctively.

Even though its obvious to both of them that George is referencing Dream accidentally saying that he likes it when George screams, the whole interaction still gave George goosebumps.

He assures himself that he's just tired, which reminds him that he needs to go. He has a flight to catch tomorrow.

There was more sounds of gentle giggling from Clay. 

"I bet I'll find a way to make you scream somehow when we see each other tomorrow."

"Shut up"

"Just for the fans." Clay adds.

"Woooowwww Dream, that sounded almost Sapnap level sus," George rolls his eyes, ignoring the reoccurring goosebumps and butterflies beginning to develop in his stomach. "One would think you actually do enjoy it, and a bit too much."

"Well..." replies Dream, too low and quietly for George's liking. Clay's voice sends lightning down his spine when he uses it in that way.

"Wow." George rolls his eyes again and crosses his arms, pushing them into his stomach to try and mute the commotion in it. "Well speaking of tomorrow, I need to go now or ill sleep through the alarm for my flight."

"Oh yeah i forgot about how much earlier you're gonna have to wake up for your flight compared to mine," Dream says, "I forget you're not just here with me in Florida sometimes."

Simply reassuring himself that he's just tired is not convincing him anymore. He needs to go.

"Uh I- uh," 

Pull yourself together, George. 

"I need to sleep dream. bye."

"Ok, see you."

George disconnects.

He rises from the oven that he calls a chair and slumps his body onto the bed.

He places a hand on his head and the other on his stomach.

What the fuck is wrong with me today.

Its TwitchCon tomorrow in LA so he needs sleep. He brushes his teeth, gets changed into his pyjama bottoms and climbs into the cool, soothing bed.

He pulls out his phone to check the Twitchcon groupchat for all the dreamsmp members that are staying in the AirBnB together. It was going to be Him, Dream, Sapnap, Wilbur, Karl and Alex.

They were partaking in final discussion about tomorrows plans.

George sets himself 5 alarms to make sure he doesnt sleep in, like he usually does, and then drifts off.

——————————

A slither of early morning sunlight cracks through the blinds and lands directly onto his eyelids.

George woke up due to the warmth on his face and light on his eyes, rather than the alarm, but soon noticed that it was going off anyway.

He turns his phone over to look at it.

Alarm 5

He sits up, raising his hands above his body, and stretches himself out.

Its very early morning but the sun is starting to rise. He gets up and opens the curtains. Its not often you get to see a view of London this peaceful. There are almost zero people and cars. What he thinks to be oranges and other duller oranges of the early morning sun shoot through every crack between every building outside, then into his room. Yet despite the warm colours, his room is by no means warm right now.

George grabs his phone and navigates his way to spotify as he makes his way towards the shower, while rubbing the grog out of his eyes.

He selects the short playlist of his current favourite songs.

He quickly pulls off his pyjamas and steps into the shower

All i am is a man i want the world in my hands...

The quiet melody was barely audible through the sound of the water hitting the tiles. However, he's so familiar with this song that he may as well have earphones in. He hums along.

I hate the beach, but i stand, in California with my toes in the sand...

California. Where George is going to be in a few hours. With his best friends. 

Clay even mentioned a beach in California that he had been to once on holiday that he wanted to show to George during their stay. 

George thinks about Clays's description of it as he rubs the shampoo into his wet, brown hair.

"Its got the whitest sand I've ever seen," he had said. "And a massive amusement park beside it."

Use the sleeves of my sweater, lets have an adventure, head in the clouds but my gravity's centred...

George's favourite line. Its one of those lines that just makes you want to be with someone.

Touch my neck and ill touch yours...

He lulls his head back, letting the hot water wash over every part of his face, savouring what could be the last calm moment of his day. 

He turns the shower knob 90 degrees, making it ice cold.

The feeling of cold, cold water running all over his body is comforting. He washes the rest of himself as the last of the song lyrics waft through the humid bathroom air.

At times in his life it has felt as though the cold water washes away his thoughts, his feelings, and confusion, which he is often in need of. George would rather wash away thoughts with water than sit and talk to someone about them. But right now it was just comforting to feel something cold and sharp in the morning.

He finally turns the shower off, steps out, and starts drying himself. After briefly combing his hair, brushing his teeth and getting dressed into casual grey sweatpants and a slightly oversized blue t-shirt, he steps out of the bathroom and makes the final few additions to his suitcase.

He lifts the suitcase, tucks his phone into his pocket, listening to the remainder of the playlist through air-pods.

Heading for the door, he turns around to make sure he has remembered everything. As his eyes scan the room George notices his colour-blind glasses sitting on his desk.

He has done surprisingly little with them since he got them, so he picks them up and shoves them into his hand luggage. They could come in handy.

George turns and exits through the front door.

Fresh air

He doesn't get enough of it. Even his online friends make time in their day to go outside or exercise, but he would rather be in the comfort of his room, with his friends' virtual company.

Inhaling slowly as he walks, he listens to the early morning birds singing. A lovely sound until you realise it'll be gone in no less than 30 minutes when the humans scare them off.

The next song shuffles on, as the bus pull up to the stop beside him.

Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head.  
Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist.  
Pullin' down backstreets, deep in your head.  
Slippin' through dreamland like a tourist.

Dreamland by Glass Animals. Clay had shown him this song one night when they were on a call. He nervously laughed when he first saw what it was, as he knew damn right what other song Glass Animals had made.

Clay knew too, but George knows he hasn't actually read Heatwaves. If he had he probably wouldn't have send George the song, as thats exactly how it went down in the fanfiction.

This didn't stop his nervousness though. Seeing the link to that song appear on his phone screen made him feel like he was dreaming, among other unusual, indescribable emotions.

That first friend you had, that worst thing you said.  
That perfect moment, that last tear you shed.  
All youve done in bed, All on memories.  
All around your head, all around your head.

He loves the song anyway. It really does feel like a dreamland. Theres something so heavenly and airy about it. It still reminds him of Clay when he listens to it. Obviously its because he showed it to him, but theres something about the lyrics too.

You've had too much of the digital love,  
You want everything live you want things you can touch.

——————————

George arrives at the airport, heart racing. He wishes it was out of excitement but its simply out of fear of airports.

He feels his phone vibrating from his pocket and pulls it out to be greeted by a phone call from Clay.

George had told him about his anxiety with airports, which is an unusual thing for him to open up about, so that explains the call. 

Clay had made George tell him what time he would arrive at the airport and this must be why.

"Oh hey," George greets, answering the call.

"Hi George... are you at the airport?" Clays familiar voice instantly helps in slightly soothing George's racing head.

"Yeah," George replies, "im just walking through the front doors now."

He can still feel his heart rate rise slightly.

"You sound shaky," Clay says, sounding more surprised than concerned.

"Im fine." George hears himself wavering ever so slightly. "Clay why are you calling me, is it not like 2am there? You have to get a flight in a few hours."

"True, but don't worry about it."

George makes his way to the long line to check in. The constant movement and noise of the people around him is making him feel almost trapped and claustrophobic.

"I hope you're not awake just to call me," George adds, trying his best to maintain the little composure in his voice that he had left.

Clay laughs. "Yeah, I am but I don't mind."

It gave him a warmth in his heart and a kaleidoscope in his stomach.  
George has never had a friend that would even think of doing something like this for him in the past.

"You idiot," George retaliates out of habit and instinct.

"I can hear you smiling George."

"Whatever." George is happy that Clay can only hear smiles and not the redness in his cheeks. "You're just imagining it. My face is straight right now."

Clay laughs again. "Yeah sure. Anyways, I'm not sure if I could've slept tonight, even if I tried."

"I wish i could say the same but nothing could stop me sleeping," George replies jokingly, "I... I'm really excited too though. The thought of us finally meeting is like- giving me butterflies. Or something."

"Butterflies?" Clay asks, with that signature cockiness in his tone.

George panics a little. Oh god. Was that suggestive?   
"I guess thats the way of saying it. I think I'm just excited okay?" George says, stuttering.

"Okay... if you say so." 

Now George could hear he was the one smiling.

——————————

George sat down on his flight. Talking to Clay on the phone had taken his mind off his surroundings, even if meant having to deal with a different kind of stress.

He had said his goodbyes and hung up when he reached the tunnel to board.

He looks out the window at the still low morning sun.   
George had often looked at it in the past and thought about how him and Clay, his best friend, are under the same sun.   
Yes, its an obvious fact, but it's still weird to really think about. They can be looking at the same object at the same time, despite the 5,450 miles between them. 

George would never mention this thought to him though, as he knows he would get all flirty and cocky about it.

He can imagine it now. Clay hearing this thought and then telling George he loves him as a joke. George hates when he jokes about that, which is why he never says it back

He reaches into his bag to pull out his colour-blind glasses in order to see sun rise through them for the first time.

At the last second George decides again this. He knows Clay would love to go around with him as he experiences certain colours of the world for the first time.

He buckles up, waiting for lift off, then put in his earphones.


	2. Dreamland

The plane lands and George rubs the fogginess out of his eyes.

According to the announcer it is currently 2pm. George hasn't slept on the journey over, so he will have to push through any tiredness until the evening.

He grabs his carry-on and exits the plane.

The feeling of walking through the airport glass tunnel in a new country is one that’s unique and indescribable. Almost other-worldly. George hasn't experienced it since holidays with his parents when he was very young. He looks through the glass to admire the beaming sun, palm trees and unfamiliar architecture.

As he reaches to check his phone, he realises it is dead so he speeds up on his way towards the baggage claim.

As soon as he gets his suitcase, he digs out the portable charger that he stupidly put in there instead of the carry-on bag. He plugs his phone in.

It turns back on and he sees one notification.

Missed call from Sapnap (2) 5 minutes ago

Nick must've asked Clay for his flight details, in order to be calling at this specific time.

He quickly calls him back.

"George!" Answers Nick.

"Sapnap," George says. " You know there was no need to call me as soon as i landed, youre gonna see me in half an hour anyway."

George says this, but he still really appreciates the call after that long, lonely journey.

"Yeah well..." Nick begins, "I know the airport you’re at, and I'm calling to tell you that if you look to the right as soon as you exit through the front door, the handsomest-looking concrete statue of all-time is right outside."

Typical Sapnap

"Ooh ive got to see," George remarks sarcastically. "Hang on, I'm almost there."

The boiling LA air hits him like a truck as he walks beyond the reach of the airport's air conditioning.

The walls to either side of the entrance end and he looks immediately to the right, but theres no statue. Only people.

Maybe its a short statue?

He continues looking anyways. Until he sees-

He almost drops his bags.

Nick laughs

"Sapnap?" He tried to shout it out of surprise but ended up almost whispering it out of shock.

"Wow, its not often i hear you lost for words Gogy." The familiar voice replies, beaming with happiness.

Nick walks towards George, opening his arms. George more than willingly opens his in return and wraps them around the slightly taller boy's body while both of are giggling to themselves.

As they let go and take a step back, Nick interrupts their giggling. "You're smaller than I expected."

"Oh shut up Sapnap, you're not that much taller." 

"Ew, don't call me Sapnap in real life," Nick jokes "you call Dream "Clay", give me the same treatment pretty-boy."

George sneers, "you literally just called me Gogy a second ago."

"Yeah, thats your real name, and what about it?" Nick says, releasing the hug.

George takes a few steps back before rolling his eyes at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were gonna be here!" George says, arms folded jokingly.

"I wanted to surprise you." Nick grins, "and so did Dream- I mean, Clay. But his flight got delayed so he's only on his way to the airbnb now. I wish he could've been smarter and just went to the same airport as you, its way closer."

The thought of Clay makes George smile. He’s tried avoiding thinking about meeting him all day, because it makes him giddy. Strangers beside him would think he’s gone insane.

Nick continues, "Ive already been to the airbnb so i can drive us straight there. Its not like you can drive anyway."

"Ughhhh shut up," George responds sarcastically.

They make their way over to the car.

——————————

The car journey with Nick took a full 30 minutes, but felt like 30 seconds. They joked and caught up the whole way.

"So who exactly is already there?" asks George

"Oh you're second last. I don't think Clay will be there by now," Nick answers. "everyone else got here on flights that landed in the morning, and me and Karl were here yesterday making sure everything was okie dokie."

"Oh," George doesnt know how to feel about this. "Its gonna be very... overwhelming to meet everyone at once."

Nick parks the car. "I thought that too but its a lot more natural than you would think."

"You say that, but if its anything like seeing you for the first time then i'll probably explode," jokes George.

"Yeah well thats just me, I'm built different."

"Thats a terrible joke."

"Shut up."

Nick pushes down the front door handle and walks in just in front of George.

He steps to the side and George is immediately greeted with fast footsteps emerging from around a corner.

"GEORGE!" says all three of them at once.

He looks at them all with a beaming smile and laughs.

Karl charges at George, arms wide, and almost knocks him off his feet. "Wow you're just as handsome in real life Gogy." 

George laughs again. This whole encounter has left him speechless.

The two of them regain balance and break off the hug for the others.

"Hi George!" Alex chimes, going in for a hug. George more than happily opens his arms in return and enters the embrace. "I told you we would hug when we meet."

"Uh, i forgot," jokes George, "i should've rejected this..."

It lasts for a little longer, and then George releases his arms and takes a step towards Wilbur.

Wilbur smiles at him. "Come here..." 

This is probably the most hugs George has even gotten in one day. He wraps his arms around Wilbur.

"Im trying really hard not to set my chin on your head right now." Wilbur chuckles.

"Why is everyone making fun of my height today," George responds lightheartedly, "I'm not even small."

"Well..."

That voice.

George's face is no longer in the almost painful smile. It was in a state of shock.

A tall blond figure was standing just behind Wilbur. He has an expression of pure cockiness, probably stemming from the knowledge that this was going to shock George to his core.

"Clay?"

"Who else?" says Clay, smiling.

Its now George's turn to run into the hug. Clay wraps his big arms around George.

Alyssa was right, he does give good hugs

Clay does what Wilbur was decent enough not to, and rests his chin on George's head. George thinks of retaliating but decides against it as he doesn’t want to ruin the moment he is enjoying.

The hug finally ends, after what felt like an eternity, which still wasn’t long enough.

George looks up at Clays face. He's... handsome?

"You look exactly how i imagined you." George said, still giggling a little from excitement. "But it still feels illegal. I shouldn't be seeing this right now." He covers his eyes as a joke.

Dream grabs Georges wrists, giving him spark sensation, and removes George's hands from over his eyes.

"I guess I'm forcing you to commit a crime then." 

George can't help but smile when he sees Clay smiling. He quickly looks to the floor. Its contagious.

"Lets sit down in the living-room shall we?" Nick suggests, making his way towards the door closest to them, "and we can have a bit of a catch up."

———

Everyone left to discuss what pizza they were going to order. George isn't picky so he uses this opportunity to lie down on the couch for rest and close his eyes for a second. This is all so overwhelming.

Clay comes back into the living-room first.  
"Well, have you exploded yet?" He asks, placing both his hands on the end of the sofa, leaning his head over so he can make eye contact.

"What?"

Clay chuckles. "Nick said that you said that you were gonna explode,"

Its surreal to hear his voice so up-close and real. George's eyes are still closed but he can hear Clay above him, so close.

"Not quite," George admits, "it was overwhelming though." He opens his eyes after saying this. Clay can't tell but there are multiple explosions in George's head right now, never mind just one. He admires Clay's smile.

George just smiles back and closes his eyes again. "But if i had of met you at the same time as Sap- Nick at the airport, I think I would've exploded then and there."

Clay doesn't reply for a second so George opens his eyes again to see him looking at his feet with an unreadable emotion displayed on his face.

"And whys that?" Clay asks, lowering his voice.

Now George wants to scream. Clay didn't lie when he jokingly said he was going to make him scream. Its as if the blond knows the way his lowered voice makes the other boy feel. Whenever they call on their own, after their streams have ended, and Clay just quietly talks in that low voice... it drives George insane.

"I- don't know," he finally responds.

George doesn't know why it drives him crazy. It just does. And that voice is here with him in this dreamland that is supposed to be reality. 

George doesn't know what to feel. Its no longer digital, its arms length away.

You've had too much of a digital love,   
You want everything live,  
You want things you can touch.


	3. Explode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short chapter :)

The group finishes eating their pizza together and disappear to their own rooms, since they are all so worn out. George doesn't want to sleep until at least 11.00pm so he can fix his schedule in preparation for the convention tomorrow.

He is sitting at the desk in his room and hears a knock on the door. He gets up from his seat to answer it, just to be immediately greeted by Clay's tall figure standing in front of him.

"I saw you're about to start stream, can i join?" Asks Clay

George looks at him confused. "My stream has face-cam Clay. But if you wanna face reveal on my stream instead of in the way you're planning to tomorrow, then I'm certainly not complaining."

"No silly, I'll just sit off to the side." Clay answers

"Well, It's risky... but sure"

George pulls the door open farther to invite Clay in and closes it behind him.

George sees the spare chair at the vanity in the room. "Here, use this."

He pulls it over to his desk, beside his own chair, and checks his OBS to ensure nothing would be visible. 

"Thanks." Clay says, sitting down on it.

Everything is ready to go. George hits "Start Stream"

He logs onto the SMP and begins aimlessly running around as he waits for viewers to join.

"Hello guys, welcome".

——————————

"Twitter is going nuts," says Clay

George was also on twitter, as he usually is after streams.

"Yes, I can see that."

His eyes skim past a few tweets

-its so weird that they're in the same room right now.-

-THEY'RE TOGETHER? /srs -

\- just woke up and found out i missed George and Dream streaming together 😭 -

"I'll never understand how we make them so excited." George comments.

"Well," says Clay, "at least they're not excited enough to explode."

"Stop mocking me you asshole." 

Clay giggles.

"Jesus christ, "they met" is trending again," George laughs. "Imagine their reaction when we stream together after your face reveal."

"When we stream together after my face reveal?" Says Clay sarcastically, "Didn't know we had that planned George..."

George shoots a weird look at him. "Well of course we are. You think I'm gonna miss out on capitalising off your face?"

"No," Clay responds, diverting his attention back to his phone screen, "but i think its more to do with the fact you love having me here with you."

George knows he's just joking around, being cocky, yet he still starts choking on his words.

"No I- definitely not..."

Clay chuckles. "Whatever George. Wether you say it or not, I know you love me."

"Oh my God Dream, shut up."

"Dream?" Clay asks. "What happened to Clay?"

George forces out a groan. “I'm just used to only responding to you joking about us fucking loving eachother on stream dumbass." He laughs and continues, "you usually don't start this shit off-stream."

"Well, obviously something made me think its about time i start." Clay remarks devilishly.

George doesn't know what to think about that sentiment.

"What!?" George asks, his voice a lot more quiet and serious than it was previously, "what made you think that?"

"Oh its nothing." 

George can hear the teasing nature in Clays voice as he says it. He watches him get up from the stool beside him.

"It's late George, i should sleep. Especially since you kept me up until 3am last night."

"Shut up Dream," George responds, laughing.

He watches the younger boy move the stool back to its initial residence and then make his way towards the door. 

"Goodnight Clay."

Clay turns back around, almost surprised.

"Goodnight George."

He leaves and shuts the door behind him. The immediate feeling of loneliness is excruciating. George is suddenly aware of the deafening silence and the sickening amount of space.

"Ugh."

He starts preparing for bed. He brushes his teeth, then gets into the shower with his music on.

So you're on the prowl wondering wether she left already or not.  
Leather jacket collar popped like antenna never knowing when to stop.  
Sunglasses indoors, par for the course, lights in the floors, and sweat on the walls.  
Cages and poles.

George only listens to this song in the evening. Its one of those smooth, night time tunes that just wouldn't feel right while the sun is watching you.   
It feels like getting into bed after a long day.  
The end of high-school slow dances.  
Driving home with the radio on at night...

Call off the search for your soul or put it on hold again.  
She's having a sly indoor smoke.  
She calls the folks who run this her oldest friends.  
Sipping her drink and laughing at imaginary jokes...

The water pressure of this shower is surprisingly strong, similar to his shower at home. 

As all the signals are sent,  
Her eyes invite you to approach.  
And it seems as though those lumps in your throat,  
That you just swallowed have got you going,  
Come on, come on, come on.

George turns the shower cold as usual. Theres something so warm about cold water.  
Its almost like hot coals. If you turn the shower cold when you're not in the right mindset, its painful. But when you're ready, its magical.

After George finishes washing, he climbs out, combs his wet hair, dries his body and gets into the pyjama bottoms he sleeps in. He needs to refill his water bottle before bed, so he grabs it and exits his room, heading into the kitchen.

He walks towards the kitchen to find Clay sitting at the table on his phone. He doesn't look up as George walks in.

George walks up up to the sink, which is right in front of Clay, and turns it on.

"I thought you said you were going to bed, Clay."

"I was but I-" Clay looks up and meets George's gaze, making him sickeningly aware of his lack of shirt. Clays eyes flicker down for a second but not too obviously.

He continues. "I- got distracted."

"Oh."

You could cut the tension with a knife. Why is Clay acting so weird all of a sudden?

George's water-bottle is full so he turns the tap off and turns to walk out again, catching Clay looking at him again, but certainly not into his eyes.

Clay notices George's gaze and goes ever so slightly red.

"Um. Goodnight again." says Clay.

"Goodnight." says George.

George makes his way back to his room and his head is racing for seemingly no reason. Why did that feel so off? Did something happen?


	4. Tennis Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im publishing chpts 4 + 5 at once because i want them read together <3

Why are Americans birds so fucking loud?

George wipes his eyes and turns over in bed to look out the window. The sun is still low but the sky is a muted blue. He can see the birds that were hurting his head on the palm trees right outside the window. He usually enjoys their song but it seems American birds are terrible singers.

He has finally found something that can wake him up before his alarm.

Despite this, he still sits there for a minute, and savours it since today is going to be hectic. It's the first day of Twitch-con.

——————————

Karl has rented a 7-seater car for their stay in order to transport the whole house at once. He is driving with Nick in the passenger seat. This leaves George, Clay and Alex in the back and Wilbur, the tallest of them all ironically, in the trunk.

"Why the fuck am I in the boot? There are literally three other people in this car that are the size of small children."

"SHUT UP," screams Alex. He evidently knows that if they start allocating seats by size, he's gonna end up in there.

Laughter erupts from the rest of the car.

Nick chimes in, "We'll alternate who has to sit in there."

"Why don't we just leave that seat to George and Alex?" suggests Clay.

George elbows Clay's ribs and he gives out a subtle oof. He looks down at George, with a sarcastic expression of hurt on his face. George's heart skips a beat when their eyes meet. 

He asks himself if thats normal. No answer.

"I'm not small, you're just giant." remarks George, glaring at Clay jovially, an excuse to keep his gaze.

"I'm sorry what? I can't hear you down there. Alvin?"

George lets out an exaggerated groan, but he can't contain a slight smile. The joke was at his expense, but the brightness audible in Clay's voice while he tells it makes up for that.

"What was that Clay? I can't quite hear. Am i going to have to plant some magical beans to get up there?"

Clay starts snickering.

The car ride goes on for many more minutes in silence as everyone, except Alex and Clay who've been there before, look out the windows admiring this new land.

Its a bright summer evening, the sun scorching. The light breeze pushes the leaves on the palm trees back and forth, and the sounds of civilians in the city are just audible over the low rumble of the car engine.

George looks over to Clay. The beams of sun illuminate his face, highlighting the striking blue/green of his eyes. George can't appreciate the colour in full but he can still see the unusual, pretty lightness of them.

They're now coming up to the car park behind the convention centre. 

"Is LA like Flordia?" George asks Clay.

Clay looks out the window for a few seconds. 

"The buildings are a little different. And the people are very different. But the temperature and nature is similar."

"Hmmph." George thinks about it.

The car stops in the space that Karl has pulled into, in the VIP carpark out back. "We're here!" he announces, stating the obvious.

Everyone starts pouring out, desperate for freedom.

George watches Clay stepping out, so he can slide out after him.

"You know, when i was like 13, i really wanted to go to Florida," George admits.

"Really?" Clay sounds surprised. "Even before you met me?" He adds in a cheeky manner.

George hesitates. "Yeah..."

Clay is now out of the car and watches George slide out from the middle seat.

"So why Florida?" he inquires.

George scans his memories for a second.

"I don't know. There literally is no reason. I just thought it looked cool."

"Hmm," Clay sounds pleased by that for some reason. "Do you still want to go?"

George knows she still wants to go. "I dunno. I don't really travel." He says as he fidgets with his Creator Lanyard.

Karl locks the car and the group start walking towards the back doors for Creator-only use.

"I could show you it," Clay says, turning his head to look at George as they walk side-by-side, a few paces behind the rest of the group. This is one of the first things he's said all day that doesn't sound like a joke or a sarcastic remark "... I could show you Florida. Some day. Maybe."

George notes how unusually unsure of himself Clay is sounding right now. The cocky tone of voice, nowhere to be found.

And his eyes are... different. Nothing to do with their general appearance per se. It's more to do with the way he's using them? Moving them? Maybe? George finds it hard to pinpoint what is different right now, but he can tell the difference in Clay's whole demeanour.

Maybe I'm imagining it.

Yeah, that.

"Um." George begins, heart racing. He doesn't know how to respond. He wants to be forward, but that might come off as too much. Yet he also wants to be subtle, but that may sound like he's shutting down the idea.

George has never been the best with words, especially when it comes to his thoughts or his feelings.

"Continue..." Clay says, laughing at the detached George.

"Oh, sorry."

Shit. 

The bouncer starts scanning the group's passes, whilst George and Clay continue talking, last in the line to get scanned.

"Yeah." George continues. "That sounds nice..."

Fuck.

Did I just fuck that? Even after calculating my response for ages?

George is horrified when he sees Clay bursting into laughter. 

"Oh. Where you joking?" George asks, trying not to sound too worried.

"No. Fuck no." Clay can barely get the words out through his laughter.

"Ugh. What is it then." George's sarcastic groans aren't gonna be sarcastic for much longer if Clay keeps this up.

"You're just so cute, George."

George raises an eyebrow at him. The semi-compliment makes him feel a warmth in his body.

Clay lifts up his Lanyard from his chest and the bouncer scans it.

"You zone out and then start talking to me like a... nervous alien."

George blows air out his noise sharply, but doesn't give the younger boy the satisfaction of a laugh. "A nervous alien? I thought you were meant to be good at writing or english or something."

"It's the metaphor that suits you best, George." 

"I do not sound like a nervous alien, what the fuck?"

"Yeah you do." Clay responds, laugh slowly fading as he starts to come back down to earth. "You're so bad at serious conversation. It's almost like talking about your own thoughts is a chore."

Now George lifts his pass and it gets scanned. They start walking through the doors.

"Not true."

"Whatever..." Clay lets out the last of his stupid hysterics. He probably would have stopped laughing earlier if he didn't notice George's attempts and muting his obvious smile.

——————————

George slumps down on the back-room sofa beside Karl and Clay, almost tired enough to fall asleep, yet its only 7pm. They had been on their feet, talking to fans, giving out merch and walking around the centre all day.

Luckily Twitch-con allocates rooms to different groups, and the DreamSMP got one of their own. It had a big window, facing out-back, so the setting sun was perfectly visible and dimly lit up the room. Some stars were already present in the dark-ish sky.

The building is almost empty now, but George, Clay and Karl were chilling in the room, waiting for the other three to come back from dinner. They had decided to get McDonalds eat-out on the way home instead, because they were so worn out.

George was surprised at the cold temperature. He didn't bring a hoodie because he thought they would be home before it got cold. The building's strong air conditioning didn't help either.

He shivers.

"Are you cold." asks Clay immediately.

"Oh." George is surprised. Clay isn't usually the observant sort. "Yeah, a bit."

Clay thinks for a second. "Well, I have left over merch from today. I'll go get you a hoodie."

Clay gets up and leaves.

"Aww how cute." Giggles Karl.

George smiles. He agrees, it is cute.

"Oh, shut up." He says.

Dream came back in no-time, with what looks like a big yellow hoodie that George knows to actually be lime green. Clay is smiling, almost laughing.

"What?" asks George.

"Um so..." Clay begins, "There's only XXL left and I forgot. I hope you don't mind too much."

George doesn't mind at all. Anything to stop these deadly shivers. Not many people will see him anyway.

"Don't worry about it, it's a nice act in the first place."

Clay hands the hoodie to George. He stands up and pulls it over his body with ease.

His head emerges out the top of the fabric and he is greeted by Clay's eyes scanning his body and laughing.

George looks down and sees that its almost reaching his knees.

"Whatever. At least it warms almost my whole body then,"

He sits back down, tucks his knees in and pulls the hoodie over his legs.

"You look like a giant tennis ball." Clay says.

George looks at him amused. He pulls the drawstrings so that his face is no longer visible.

"How about now?" George asks.

Clay snickers. "Yeah, even more so."

Karl's phone starts ringing. He picks it up.

"Hello? Yeah sure. We'll be there in a second. Bye!"

He hangs up.

"We're gonna meet them at the car, lets go." Karl says.

The three boys get up and leave the room. Clay admires George and starts giggling like a child again.

"You are so immature, Clay." He says.

"Maybe..."

As the outside door opens, George becomes even more thankful for the extra heat the hoodie is providing him with.

"HAHA WHAT THE FUCK." Nick screams when he sees George.

"Shut up."


	5. Drunk Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // Alcohol . No addiction or abuse tho.  
> I’m very proud of this chapter <333

George checks his phone.

10:15pm

They had gotten home and ate their McDonalds. The three that went to dinner had bought beers and vodka on their way home.

George doesn't really drink. One bad drunk story in uni was enough to put him off for life. He was feeling tired anyway so he went up to his room to sleep.

After 30 minutes of lying in bed with his eyes closed, he still couldn't sleep. The other boys were too loud.

He leans out of the bed and picks up his airpods, to hopefully cancel out the laughing and screaming from downstairs. The massive green sleeve of the hoodie he's still wearing almost knows it off. After swiping through the music, he choses the stripped version Yoko Ono by Mob Rich & Matt Maeson.

I don't wanna take from you.  
I don't need an IOU.  
Keep your pockets superglued.  
I got nothin', you got nothin'.

The gentle lyrics float through his ears into his head. Karl's laugh is still very much audible.

Be my Yoko Ono muse.  
Serotonin, Bulletproof.  
Never better, Never blue.  
I got nothin', You got nothin.

George can now hear staggered steps coming up the stairs.

All I wanna spend is one more night.  
Between your sheets, Behind your eyes.

His door opens.

"HI GEORGE!" Clay shouts.

"Ugh Clay, be quieter will you." George's ears aren't adjusted to this level of noise right now.

"Do you have shaving cream? i need to shave for tomorrow." Clay asks.

George groans and gets out of his bed to give him his shaving cream. 

"Here."

Clay smiles, extremely drunkenly. 

"THANK YOU."

He leaves, bumping his shoulder into the wall on the way out.

George returns to bed but is hit with a thought a second later.

Is Clay really going to try and shave while he's drunk?

He instinctively gets up from his bed and makes his way over to Clay's room.

As he expected, Clay is in his bathroom trying to shave.

"Um. Maybe thats not the best idea." George interrupts.

"Oh, George." Clay looks up, talking a lot quieter than he was a second ago. "Why not? I w- won't have time tomorrow morning, we're l- leaving early."

George giggles at how out-of-it Clay is right now.

"Clay you're so drunk," he says laughing, "if you shave now you'll have cuts all over your face tomorrow."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Thats a risk drunk you is willing to take." 

George walks over to him and takes the razor from his hand with ease.

"Ugh." Groans Clay. 

George feels bad, but its for his own good. Clay will thank him tomorrow.

"Please?" asks Clay again.

George has a thought. The shaving cream is already on his face, so he might as well.

"Let me do it for you." George tells him.

Clay raises an eyebrow, suprised.

"Ok, thats fine by me."

Clay is sitting on a stool beside the sink, so George places himself ontop of the counter infront of him making them level.

He tries to ignore his heart, racing.

George gently lifts his right hand and places it onto Clays jaw, lifting his head up slightly. He keeps it there to stop him swaying.

He now lifts his left hand with the razor in it. Clay immediately knows to angle his jaw slightly, flattening the side of his face.

George carefully glides the razor over his skin and shakes it into the sink of water behind him.

"You look good in that hoodie George."

George's hand almost fails him. He was gliding the razor over a new section of skin but had to lift it off before he dropped it all-together.

"Shut up..." says George quietly, in an extremely unconvincing tone. There was no meaning behind that demand.

Clay can see the change in George's demeanour. He has flustered him. 

"I'm gonna kiss you after this."

The razor slides out of George's hand and hits the floor. He's almost too frozen to do anything about it.

Clay reaches down and picks up the razor in his right hand. When George is too shell-shocked to reach for it, Clay uses his left hand to take George's hand into his, places the razor into it, and then closes his best friend's fingers over the handle for him.

George finally lets out a hitched breath he was holding.

"You're even cockier when you're drunk, Clay." George says without his usual confidence. "What makes you think I would even kiss you back."

"Your eyes."

"What?" George asks confused. "My eyes can't talk."

"I can see how you look at me."

George's grip tightens around the razor, making sure not to drop it this time. He doesn't dare return to shaving Clay's face as his hands are trembling too much.

George finally replies.

"You're just imagining it."

Clay looks down at his feet, thinking. His expression is new to George. Maybe this is just how he gets when he's drunk? He's acting really serious right now.

"So you're telling me," Clay begins, "that you've never in your life noticed when someone looks at you in... a certain way."

"No." lies George.

"So you've never seen me looking at you like that?"

George closes his eyes. This isn't real. He takes a breath in to try and regain composure, forcing himself to try and ignore the goosebumps all over his body and the tingles in his stomach.

Clay leans his head slightly into George's right hand and shuts his eyes.

George lifts his razor hand again and returns to shaving him.

"Maybe I have," says George.

He opens his eyes.

"I wouldn't be surprised." says Clay, voice is now reduced to a low mumble.

Clay's mouth is ever so close to George's ear as he leans over to shave the other side of his face.

"I-"

George stops himself before he can continue that thought. He sighs with realisation.

"Clay... you're drunk."

But the way Clay has been talking to him has erased confusion from George's brain, and reopened thoughts that were forced away for all these years. George knows how he feels. He knows how these words are affecting him. For the first time in forever it feels like he knows whats going on inside his own head.

But Clay is drunk. The last thing he wants is to drop himself into a pit of unrequited feelings.

"Yeah I know." Says Clay. "I'm gonna regret this tomorrow if I can even remember."

George replies with a simple "mmm hmm." He's scared at how ragged his words would sound if he talked right now.

"If I forget George, will you tell me?" Asks Clay, "I think it will give sober-me a push in the direction I've been too scared to walk in myself."

"No way." Says George. "If you forget, it's for the better."

Clay returns his gaze to his feet and stays silent.

George feels guilty. The hint of sadness on Clay's face is enough to ruin his mood.

George lifts the facecloth from the rack beside him and soaks it in water. He cleans all excess foam off Clays face, gently as to not irritate his skin. Clay looks back up at him while he does this, which George can't help but find distracting. His eyes are drifting over all George's face and features. It's giving him flutters.

"There." says George.

Clay gets up, throwing a hand at the counter as he stumbles.

George starts cleaning the sink up and Clay goes into his room.

He stops at the door.

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, George." he says as he leaves.

George turns his head away from him and shuts his eyes. Fuck.


	6. Goosebumps

Melancholy notes float around Georges head. His earphones are still in from last night when he was lying in bed, unable to sleep.

The sun blaring down onto his face through the crack in the curtains feels like pain. The grog in his eyes feels like pain.

He takes out the earphones and lies in the silence that is occasionally broken by awakening birds.

Theres no bustling or murmurs coming from the house. It must be early.

George sits up. His leg muscles are sore from all the standing around and talking of yesterday.

He looks beside him at the oversized green hoodie, still laying on top of his bed sheets.

And the memories flood back. He covers his face.

He took the hoodie off when he returned to his room last night. He was too warm. Especially his face.

George's head is so muddled that all the emotions mix to feel like sadness and confusion.

A cold shower will smooth this over.

He disconnects his Airpods and heads to the shower. By the time he's in the bathroom, the water is almost calling for him.

Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you.  
Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you.  
Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you...

He turns the dial 90° and smiles at the familiar sound of water hitting the tiles.

Daydreaming and I'm thinking of you.  
Daydrinkin' just for something to do.  
You know I,  
daydream until the late afternoon.

Steam wafts through the bathroom, fogging up all the mirrors and finally fogging up his brain.

——————————

George leaves his room, ready for the day, hair still damp.

He heads down to the kitchen. There is still no movement in the house.

So he is surprised when he is greeted by everyone, sitting at the kitchen table, all eating cereal and not talking.

George looks at them, observing their clearly hungover nature. He breaks the silence.

"You all look like zombies."

They look up at once, surprised.

"Oh, hi George." croaks Wilbur. The rest all manage a smile.

George looks to Clay, who is also shooting him a wide smile. He searches for something else, behind it, behind his eyes, but there is nothing to be read. Can he remember?

George pours himself a glass of water and leaves.

He doesn't know what to think. If Clay can remember, then he's going to have a very awkward day. If Clay can't remember, then he's faced with the predicament over wether to tell him or not.

George exits through the front door to sit on the seats at the front porch of the house. It's a warm morning. 

As he drinks his water, he admires the clear sky of this place. He barely gets anything other than clouds in London. 

He sits and tries emptying his head.

"You look good in that hoodie George."  
"I'm gonna kiss you after this."  
"So you've never seen me looking at you like that?"

He can't.

Why is this haunting him so much? It's really not a big deal.

"Drunk words are sober thoughts"

Yet his brain is making this feel like a life or death situation.

He can hear the other boys stacking their dishes and moving around the house through the open windows.

A few minutes later, the front door opens beside George. Clay walks out.

Of course its him.

He pulls out a seat beside George.

"We're just waiting for the others now." he informs.

George hums an acknowledgement as the door shuts behind. His lack of words makes Clay look at him, curiously.

"So. Did you sleep well last night, George?"

Of course not. Is what he wanted to say. The truth.

"I slept... alright." George answers, having to force the words out of his mouth. "What about you?"

"Well, I feel like I've been asleep for weeks but I am unable to feel the benefits of it right now." Clay responds with a slight laugh. "I'm dying." 

George smiles. "Yeah, I can hear that." he says with a sarcastic tone. "You were really drunk last night."

"Yeah. I think I was."

George looks back at Clay. This his chance to figure out what he knows.

"Can you remember much?" George asks. "About last night?"

During the short silence that follows, George's heart starts racing twice as fast as it already was.

He notices a look of slight worry on Clays face. 

"Um... its coming back to me..."

Clay continues to think. He looks as though thoughts and memories were flooding back as they speak.

George panics. He doesn't want him to have a sudden moment of remembrance, right in-front of him, right now.

Clay continues. "But I can't remember going upstairs or going to bed or anything. The end of the night is all a blur right now."

George lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Why, did something happen?" Asks Clay.

He takes the breath he just exhaled, sharply back in. "No. nothing." he snaps.

"Good." replies Clay. "I've been known to do dumb stuff when I'm drunk."

"Yeah." says George with an accidental assertiveness.

"What?"

"Oh I mean..." George panics. "I was uh- I meant 'yeah' in an acknowledging way, I wasn't agreeing. I mean, I wouldn't know..."

Clay narrows his eyes. George waits for the call-out.

But to his surprise, he just starts laughing. 

"You're being cute again."

"Ugh." George rests his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the table, trying to cover his smile. He is smiling from relief that just washed over him and he is smiling from how the words Clay just spoke make him feel. 

"Awkward and cute are not synonymous, Clay." he finally replies, sitting back into his chair, laced hands placed back onto his legs once again.

"I dunno..." says Clay. "They are with you."

George giggles again, as much as he doesn’t want to. He wonders for a moment, if Clay would be saying these things right now if he could remember last night in the bathroom.

Clay returns to his calmer, more serious tone. "You're right though. I am dumb when I'm drunk." he says. "I mean look-"

Clay turns his head to give George a clearer view of his sharp jawline.

"I shaved... While drunk!"

George laughs. He looks down to his feet before Clay can read his expression. "Yeah. It appears so. You did a good job at it too." He looks back up to meet his eyes.

Clay places his hand onto his jaw to appreciate the job. On the exact same spot George's hand rested last night. 

He stifles a shiver and covers his arms to hide the goosebumps.

"Well I guess I'll be getting drunk-me to shave more often."

They laugh in unison. Clay out of amusement and George out of nervousness and slight guilt.

The sun has just risen above the houses across from them and is now shining down onto their faces. Clay looks across at him and they smile. George quickly breaks the eye contact.

George had always thought about how him and Clay were under the same sun. But now they’re beside each other, under the same sun.

"You've actually picked up a bit of a tan."

George looks up surprised. He is suddenly aware of Clay's eyes over his face, then arms, then-

"Can't say thats ever happened before." replies George. "I was probably in the sun yesterday more than the whole last year combined."

"Same." says Clay. "But in Florida you usually end up with a tan anyway. You have the disadvantage of British weather. No wonder you never go outside."

"Yeah maybe."

"And theres nothing to see in London either, as far as I've heard. You can't just hang out at the beach with friends or something." continues Clay. "Like, when was the last time you were at the beach?"

George thinks to himself. Other than on holidays, there hasn't been many occasions.

"I can't remember."

Clay makes an exaggerated fake face of shock.

"Thats absolutely disgusting. Well... remember that one I told you about?" he asks.

George absolutely remembers the one he told him about.

"Uh. Yeah, I think so."

"It's basically right beside the convention centre. I could take you? Today?"

George smiles which turns the unsure expression that Clay had developed on his face into a second smile.

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I havent updated in a long time so sorry. I was adopted by one direction so ive been busy with that.
> 
> Anyways, you can follow me on twitter @chirpbo for updates!


	7. Remembrance

George lets out a long breath. The last event they have today is almost over. The Dream SMP panel.

A majority of the SMP is there. The 6 boys from the house as well as Daryl, Zak, Cara and Niki (who are renting an airbnb together), Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo (who are staying with their parents in some hotel) and Jack, Techno and Philza, who have other arrangements.

Its the last 5 minutes. The QnA section. George has almost drifted off multiple times due to the boring nature of some of the questions coming up.

He came back down to earth once or twice. 

A kid had came up to the microphone and asked how much dedodated wam he should add to the server, jokingly.

Wilbur then started answering a boring question almost sent George to sleep.

1 more minute.

Clay bumps George.

He looks up to see all eyes on him.

"I'm sorry, what was the question."

Clay laughs, as well as many others in the room, and reasks the question for the girl.

"He asked 'George and Dream, how do yous see all the dnf fanart and not fall in love.'" 

George shakes his head at Clay, who just starts laughing at him. Trust him to direct this question straight to George, rather than just answering it himself.

And George doesn't like the mocking tone in Clay's laugh.

"Who says we haven't?" George says, feeling bold momentarily.

Instant regret.

But he is relieved when the room erupts into laughter, or else that would've been a sticky one to get out of.

He looks back round to Clay who is still smiling at him. George scoffs and tries to ignore the flutter in his heart. 

He just toed the line in-front of a thousand people and got away with it.

The director of the panel starts speaking down his microphone, telling the audience that it is now over and informing them of the panels later on in the day.

George sees Tommy and Tubbo get up at the other side of the stage and everyone follows off.

He expected them to go to their backstage room but instead everyone is heading straight for the back exit of the centre.

"Sapnap," calls George.

Nick turns around.

"Are we going straight home then?"

Nick nods at George. "Yeah, most of us are since the event is over, but if you want to hang around for longer or something we can pick you up later."

George hadn't forgotten about the beach at all. Infact it was all he had thought about all day. He had worried that Clay would change his mind due to being too tired or not actually caring about it that much.

George had been battling with himself over wether he'd read the situation wrong. His head hurts when he thinks about the last few days.

“Yeah me and Clay will do that if its okay?”

"That’s fine." replies Nick. "What are you planning to do?"

George looks up at Clay with a grin, but it isn’t reciprocated. Clay is looking around himself, lost in thought.

"Oh theres just somewhere that we want to go."

Nick is now eyeing him with extreme suspicion.

"Okay whatever i guess..." Nick turns around to try and hide an obvious smile, and starts speed walking towards Karl.

"Thats... weird behaviour." says George.

"Yes, very." says Clay. 

There is a suspicious silence that follows. Clay had sounded like he was about to continue that thought, but instead they march on towards the exit in silence. 

His usual expression of amusement is nowhere to be found.

"You've been acting weirder though." Clay finally says after a minute.

"What?" George is taken aback by this. “Me?”

Clay sighs. 

George looks back at him to try get a read again. He has the expression of someone thats about to throw up.

They walk in eerie silence as they finally exit through the back door. As everyone else starts going towards their cars, Clay grabs George's wrist.

"George, I can remember."

Oh no.

George takes in a long inhale.

"R- Remember what?"

Clay sighs a second time. 

"Last night. Barely. But I can recall enough to fill in the gaps now."

George looks at his feet out of guilt. Should he have said something?

"George..." Clay begins again. Usually the sound of his name from the younger boys lips fills him with brightness, but this time the slight twinge of hurt is infringing on that.

“George, Why didn't you want me to know?"

That is the hardest question he could've asked. Because George doesn't know why himself. He feels almost physical pain in his heart.

George waits in silence for too long so Clay speaks again. "I've read this wrong haven't I."

He look up from his feet at Clay at lightning speed, just to see him dropping his head as he lets go of George's wrist.

"George, I'm sorry."

"I- no. Clay, you haven't. I-" 

He struggles to finish the sentence, the sight of Clay slowly backing up towards the car knocks the remaining confidence out of him.

The only thing harder than seeing the sadness that has been on Clay's face is now seeing the forced smile that lies there.

"George its fine. Don't worry about it. Lets just... go to the beach another time perhaps. I'm tired."

It feels like a knife through George's heart.

He walks behind Clay towards the vehicle. Nick shoots Clay a confused looks which is responded to with a short statement that George is too far away to hear.

George gets into the back seat beside him and closes the door. He looks to Clay but Clay doesn't look back.

He turns his head towards the window, where nobody can see his face, and snaps his eyes closed tight, pulse still loud in his ears. He takes a long, shaky inhale and leans his head back.

He feels like he’s in an interactive video game, and just picked all the wrong options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao i got my twitter wrong last chapter its @p00pmaster69 bby


	8. Confusion

George wakes up to the sound of the engine stopping. His head is slowly rising and falling for whatever reason. He soon realises why.

Opening his eyes, he discovers that his head is planted firmly on Clay's shoulder, with the sides of their bodies pushed together.

After all that.

He looks up at Clay, as he lifts his head away, who clearly has been looking at him. They turn away in sync to avoid each other's gaze.

George sits up straight and rubs his eyes.

"Sorry." He mutters.

"Don't worry about it."

Clay's voice sounds lifeless, and George hates it. Part of him wishes the younger boy was at least angry. Maybe then, the guilt wouldn't be as deathly.

This is my fault.

George opens the door to his right to get out and Clay follows. They walk into the house with the rest of the gang who are still chatty from the high of the event. He wonders for a second if they can notice anything off about either of them.

He knows he needs to offer Clay an explanation, but in order to do that he would need to get him alone first.

——————————

The rest of the evening is filled with awkward exchanges and sideward glances between the two.

Clay is a good actor. George can still see the disappointment in his eyes when he looks at him, but when he's not looking you can't notice any difference in body language, speech or anything for that matter.

George however, is not a good actor. He knows all about it due to fans teasing him, and they aren't wrong in the slightest. He overthinks every gesture and every hand placement. He guards his words to the point of silence.

He may be a bad actor, but he is a good observer. He can see that Nick knows something is wrong. He can see that Wilbur knows something is wrong. Infact all of them know something is wrong to an extent. This has left George praying to God, in his head, that they all hold their mouths until tomorrow at the very least.

Its hard to get Clay alone when he is paying so much attention to who is around him. When the majority goes to another room, he follows. When everyone is leaving a room, he makes sure to get out first. He obviously doesn't want to be caught. Its like a game of tag and George is it.

Part of George wants to take this as a challenge, but unfortunately the majority of his head is telling him that he obviously doesn't want to be bothered, so he should just forget it.

But can he really just erase the past three days like that? Never mind the past three days, Would this erase the past few years? And even then, George just can't see-

"George?"

He looks up, suddenly becoming aware of his surroundings once again. His name had come from Nick.

"George, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." continues Nick with a slight laugh.

George looks over to Clay who is eyeing him curiously and then looks back to Nick.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired. I think i'm gonna go sleep now," says George as he arises from the living room sofa.

Nobody says anything as they watch him leave, reconfirming that they definitely know something is up.

He would've left earlier but he didn't want to leave Clay on his own, open to questions from the others. 

He had then forgotten this reasoning in the moment.

As he reaches his bedroom door the guilt intensifies as that thought finally sinks into his head. He can already hear the curious rumble from the living room.

He closes his door behind him and pulls out his phone to start typing a message. He types and retypes about 5 times before realising every second typing is a second of his friends asking questions.

____________________  
🟢  
CLAY

| Hi. Can you come here? |

| . . . |

Who knew 3 dots could cause so much worry.

A worry that is further set in stone when the three dots disappear with nothing to be left in their place.

George throws his phone onto his bed and flops down beside it. Maybe Clay wants to be questioned. Maybe he wants to tell the others about how George led him on. 

He knows logically that Clay is not that type of person, but that doesn't mute the thought.

Slow steps approaching George's room make gentle thumps. His heart quickens as he hears a knock on his door.

"George?" asks Clay as he opens it.

George simply stares. He doesn't even open his mouth to attempt to reply. He thought Clay wasn't coming so he didn't bother thinking this through.

He knows that that is understood, as he watches Clay take a seat on the bed beside him.

"Clay." George finally replies.

It takes 5 painful seconds of silence for George to even attempt continuing.

"I..." 

He thought that maybe if he started the sentence, the rest would come. But it didn't

For the first time in his life, George has nothing to say because he has too much to say. So many thoughts float around his head. He doesn't know how to pick the relevant ones, he doesn't know how to pick the ones right for this circumstance, and he doesn't know how to pick the ones that he's comfortable to finally let out.

His decision to then look up at Clay's damn face makes it harder. His mask of composure almost tastes of fake strawberry. 

He remembers back to the bathroom, when Clay had asked George if he had ever seen him looking at him in a specific way.

George hadn't and he still hasn't. Its almost upsetting that this is the most memorable way Clay has ever looked at him, rather than whatever the fuck Clay was talking about back then. Eyes so dull, there may as well be tears.

George throws himself at Clay, arms first, wrapping them around the taller boy's neck.

For a second he thinks Clay is angry and isn't hugging him. He is about to retract his arms with embarrassment, when a pair of big hands are finally placed softly on his upper and lower back.

George leans his head onto Clay's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." George says quietly, almost a whisper. He is slightly muffled by Clay's body. "I should've told you."

Clay starts moving a hand up and down, rubbing his upper back in reassurance.

"Its okay."

George tightens his arms and hides his face into the other boy's chest further.

"No its not okay. You say its okay because you still think you misread me and you still think that's your fault."

George pulls his head back from Clay's shoulder to look him, their faces inches apart.

"You never misread me."

George wants to say more so badly. He wants to confess all his thoughts and feeling about, and towards, Clay from the past 3 days. But he can't.

Clay doesn't speak, he just smiles. This time genuine, not the fake smile thats been on display for hours. 

He leans his head forwards to touch with George's and they both close their eyes, grinning like idiots.

The short silence is enjoyable.

"This is confusing." says Clay with a chuckle.

"We are confusing." says George. "We are idiots."

They both open their eyes again, staying in the comfortable, warm position.

"Don't drag me into it, you confusing idiot." Clay sneers.

They both laugh as George returns his head to Clay's shoulder.

George hears a loud sniff.

"Are you crying?" asks George bluntly. He doesn't raise his head to check, he doesn't want to see.

Clay laughs a little, his giggles clearly broken up in wavers. 

"No," he lies.

They sit like that for another few moments, appreciating each other's company and touch.

"But why didn't you tell me?" asks Clay, finally breaking the silence.

George doesn't fully know himself. "I just couldn't. There wasn't a reason, and I wasn't necessarily embarrassed, it was just too hard and I couldn't."

"I think I know why you couldn't"

"Why?"

Clay lets out another giggle between his badly stifled sobs. "Because you are unbelievably bad at talking about yourself. And your thoughts. You hate doing it and you don't even realise. If you told me what had happened it would've forced you into doing just that."

"No." George says defensively, but without an actual defence.

"Whatever." Clay sounds slightly amused.

"You're getting analytical over nothing."

Nothing is given but a snort in response.

George looks up as Clay leans back slightly and removes an arm. He goes to wipe his face of tears.

George silently reaches his hoodie sleeve up to wipe under his left eye, while Clay gets the right, making sure to go softly over the sensitive areas.

"Stop or you're gonna make me make more tears." Clay laughs, looking down at him, eyes full of admiration.

George giggles as he finally lets go of Clay to lean back onto his bed. Clay stands up to leave. 

"Wait, Clay."

George had heard a few footsteps and doors during the silent parts of the hug, so he knows its late and everyone else is off to bed.

"Stay with me?"

Clay raises an eyebrow jokingly.

"Fuck you, not in a weird way." George clarifies.

"In a what way then?"

"Its just- kinda cold."

"You want me for temperature? So it is in a weird way then." Clay mocks playfully. "Wow. Men only want one thing and its disgusting."

"Oh my God, you are so embarrassing, just shut up and get back here after you wash your teeth."

He takes Clay's laughter as he quickly leaves the room to be a 'yes'.

George quickly gets himself ready for bed by brushing his teeth, washing his face and changing into pyjamas (with a top this time too, since Clay would be here).

He walks around to the left side of the bed and is getting under the covers when he hears his door open and close, once again. A switch flicks and the room goes dark as the other boy turns the lights off for sleep.

George turns around in the bed to face Clay as he gets under the covers beside him.

"Hi." says Clay.

"Hi."

Without words, they immediately close the gap between each other. George slides his left arm over Clay's side, head resting beside his chest.

He feels Clay's arm snake over the top of his back as a hand is placed into his hair, with the arm comfortably pulling their bodies together.

George, feeling more comfortable, leans his head in to rest it on the younger boy's chest. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm sorry about all that Clay," whispers George.

"It doesn't matter," he responds, ruffling George's hair a bit. "look at us now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gnf321gc ( “||sex” for some reason?) Inspired the crying part after discussion over the fact that fanfic often portrays George as a cry baby for literally no reason lmao how the tables turned.


End file.
